


overthinking is his specialty

by epanouiii



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: <3, <3 is a heart ao3 is just a bitch, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Crack, Flirting, Gen, Lucas was given a fake phone number, M/M, Texting, and its both hilarious and fortuitous, but they're our idiots <3, fake phone number, texting fic, they're idiots, this was made for my own entertainment but i thot ud appreciate it maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epanouiii/pseuds/epanouiii
Summary: Lucas has overthinking down to a science—or, well, his friends havehisoverthinking down to a science.It's too bad they can't always be there to avoid disaster.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Lucas Lallement & Manon Demissy & Imane Bakhellal & Emma Borgès & Alexia Martineau & Daphné Lecomte, Lucas Lallement & Yann Cazas & Basile (SKAM France) & Arthur (SKAM France), Manon Demissy/Charles Munier, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	overthinking is his specialty

**Author's Note:**

> um,,hi
> 
> this is most definitely crack made for my own entertainment. i usually don't write crack bc while i think im hilarious, many ppl don't like my brand of humour. but i thought it'd be a wild idea to post this crackbaby of mine up on this site!! enjoy if ud like!
> 
> oh also, based on the prompt: 'someone gave me a fake phone number and it's actually yours' bc im basic trash <<3 luvs it
> 
> my [tumblr](https://epanouiii.tumblr.com) if u ever find urself wanting to witness a dumbarse (outside of lucas) in action
> 
> tw in end notes

Lucas is freaking out.

Not that it’s an unusual thing—his friends have gotten used to him frantically calling them about the most random things at the most random times of day. In the middle of the night, before his lectures, during his lectures, at 3 A.M.. It’s not something they’re surprised about anymore. In fact, he does it so much that they’ve even coordinated a roster of who to go to when he’s panicking.

Imane if it’s about schoolwork; Arthur, Basile, Daphné, Emma and Alexia if he can’t pinpoint what he’s freaking out about and needs a distraction; and Yann and Manon if he’s experiencing emotional distress—or, as his friend likes to put it: “A full-blown acid trip.” 

He has all of them on speed dial, and the roster memorised after Imane sat him down after he called her because his toilet started overflowing and no one else was home. She hadn’t been able to help him, as she both had no experience fixing toilets and was in another country. Instead, like the level-headed person she is, she directed him to call his landlord ( who is also on speed dial now ). She teases him about it to this day. Openly. In front of everyone. For the whole world to hear about his inability to handle stressful situations like an adult.

No. The thing is—what he’s having a minor panic attack over _is_ unusual and, therefore, he doesn’t know how to proceed.

_What do you text to a guy you just went on a date with?_

Even more pressing— _who does he call?_

He can’t ask any of the guys because they’ll blow it way out of proportion and probably make him feel even worse about the whole thing. He can’t ask Imane, who, despite being a great problem solver, doesn’t do well with romance. Neither does he, to be honest. It’s why he’s in this mess in the fucking first place. He can’t ask Emma or Alexia. They’re not close enough for him to spill all of his embarrassing emotions onto them. It’s why they’ve been delegated to the ‘distraction’ part of the roster. All that leaves are Daphné and Manon. He would ask Manon because she lives with him, but she’s on a date with Charles— _eugh_ , and she’s probably staying the night at his apartment—and Daphné will probably make him draft a love confession or something. He’s nowhere near that stage. They’ve only been on one date, which they planned after a week of texting back and forth ( many of these texts aren’t just from Lucas—he has his friends sprinkled all of the conversation as they attempted to help his draft the perfect responses ).

He isn’t even sure he _likes_ the guy that much. 

Adrian isn’t the type of guy he usually goes after. He’s blonde, first of all, and Lucas has always been more attracted to the tall, dark and handsome variety. He’s also very talkative. He wouldn’t shut up on the date for one minute, and more than once Lucas found himself wondering if the guy would pass out from not pausing enough to breathe. He swears the waitress who took their table was thinking the same thing; her confused staring at Adrian as she poured their wine was clearly a confession to her amazement at his immense lung capacity. Because luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—Adrian stayed conscious the entire time, and Lucas couldn’t get one word in about, well, anything. 

He doesn’t like to talk about himself a lot. People always inevitably bring up parents, and Lucas finds himself unable to explain the _absence_ of his parents. And not for a lack of trying! He just can’t seem to utter the words, “My parents aren’t in the picture.” It might be because he doesn’t want their pity, or maybe it’s because he can’t find it within himself to admit it in front of other people. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that Adrian is one of the most boring people he’s ever been on a date with. All he talked about was his car and his job as a mechanic, and all Lucas knows about cars is that a lot of the expensive ones are ugly. 

He wonders if he should try to set up Adrian and Basile. He doesn’t think his friend is bi, but Bas has never been a person to knock something before trying it. Maybe Adrian will grow attached and Lucas won’t have to deal with him ever again! A win-win situation, in his book.

But back to the main issue.

What the fuck does he say? Adrian gave him his number and he can’t just _not_ use it. That’s got to be some kind of dating faux pas. Not that he would know, of course, because he hasn’t been on many dates. He’s way too busy with university to spend all of his time on Grindr. His professors have been a pain this year, assigning him mountains of work to do and expecting it all to be _done_. It’s piled high on his desk in the corner of his room, a constant reminder of his pathetic attempts at time management. He tries not to look at it—he can already feel the stress of it attempting to conjoin with his _other_ source of stress.

This is why Lucas has a roster of people to call when he starts to overthink things.

Picking himself up from where he’s been lying on the floor of his room, he glares at his phone. It’s been sitting innocuously on his bed for the past half an hour, mocking him, daring him to do something stupid like call the guy. Or even worse, pull a Daphné and serenade him. 

“You know what? No! I’m not dealing with this right now!” He throws up his hands and storms out off his room. “I’m having a shower.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Afterwards, when he’s settled down in his bed, his covers thrown over his torso and his pillows strewn across the floor, he hesitantly picks up his phone.

It’s small, and pretty non-threatening. At least at first glance. But this isn’t a first glance, and he knows precisely what malicious secrets it hides. 

_Adrian._

Maybe he can just wait until tomorrow? It wouldn’t be odd for him to say he fell asleep after getting home. They stayed out pretty late—Lucas couldn’t find a reasonable enough excuse to leave earlier—and Adrian wouldn’t know any better. Not when all he did was yap on about Rolanda—his car, a 1981 Ford Fairmont XF ghia Sportsman. Lucas swears no amount of equations or chemical formulae will be able to erase it from his brain. 

But he knows he’s not going to get any sleep if he doesn’t. And he really wants to sleep. 

He tries to get himself excited. 

“You can do this, Lucas! It’s just a simple text.” 

But then he realises how stupid he sounds, hyping himself up in his room alone. So, figuring that won’t work, he promises to his dark room that he’ll send a quick _‘thanks for the night!’_ and turn off his phone.

Trying not to overthink everything ( and failing ), he reaches for it.

He opens his contacts and starts to scroll past the various names his friends have given themselves— _✨daphy✨, yannisthecoolestbro, Imane Bakhellal, (b)l(a)i(s)e, saucybitch, manon <3, Emma The Boss, King Arty—_that he can never be bothered changing. He has a habit of leaving his phone unattended, and they have taken full advantage. Finally, he comes to stop at the contact he’d saved earlier that night.

_Adrian Detrange_ ; the man who’d unknowingly caused Lucas to pace around his apartment like a solemn, panicky grim reaper for the last few hours. 

**To Adrian Detrange (1:19)**  
_Thanks for tonight! I really enjoyed it!!_

No, no, delete, _delete!_ Too many exclamation marks. It makes him sound too enthusiastic. He might get the wrong idea and think Lucas wants to go on another date, which he does _not._

He tries again.

**To Adrian Detrange (1:20)**  
_I had fun tonight. It was pretty cool_

Was that too apathetic? He deletes it. The backspace button has never felt more rewarding. 

As his finger hovers over the keyboard, Yann’s voice filters through his brain. _“Don’t think, just do,”_ he says, like he was a cheesy motivational speaker or something. 

_Deep breaths. Don’t overthink it. You’re cool, Lucas. You’re_ **cool.**

**To Adrian Detrange (1:25)**  
_I had a great time tonight! The food was good. I just wish I’d chosen that roasted fuck._

He hits send, feeling all too proud of himself.

_I am cool. I’m the coolest bitch this world’s ever seen. I could walk circ—_

He sees it. 

And he cries.

**Author's Note:**

> tw: swearing, mention of panic attacks, mentioned parental issues


End file.
